


Embrace the Suck

by quelquecoeurs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Angst, Drama, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, PTSD, Romance, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quelquecoeurs/pseuds/quelquecoeurs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after the meteors fall worldwide, Dean Winchester, an auto-mechanic in the backwoods of North Carolina, almost runs over a mysterious stranger named Castiel.</p>
<p>As the two men grow closer, Dean is drawn into a new world of supernatural intrigue and unexpected romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

_**The Sylva Herald, July 7, 2011** _

_**WORLDWIDE METEOR SHOWER** _

_**Last night, at 8:22 pm, an unexpected meteor shower appeared in our planet's skies. Record numbers of people all over the world stepped outside their homes and businesses to watch the event. Scientists have no explanation for the phenomenon. Before last night, it was thought impossible. This is the first worldwide meteor shower in recorded history...** _

* * *

__

 

Dean Winchester wipes his mouth of the remains of the pie, spotting a smear of purple on the diner's napkin before he crumples it up and throws it on the plate.

“That was excellent, Betty,” he calls to the middle-aged owner behind the counter. She smiles with her crooked, nicotine-stained teeth.

The waitress walks up to him with the check. “Anything else for you today?” she asks.

Dean gives her his heart-killer smile and spots her name-tag. “No, you've taken care of me real good, Nicole.”

Nicole blushes and quickly takes the two fives he hands her.

“Go ahead and keep the change,” he says. Her blush deepens as she says her thanks and scurries away. He stands up and pats his stomach. “See you later, Betty! Save a slice for me next week?”

“Sure thing, honey!” she says as she fills up Mr. Paterson's coffee.

The door jingles as Dean leaves. He goes over to a '67 black Impala among the trucks in the parking lot and pats its hood before getting in. He listens to the purr of the engine before he backs out, turns left and heads out towards Waynesville.

He checks his phone at the last light before the highway: no new messages. What was he expecting? Was Lisa going to call him back, tell him he was right and she and Ben should stay in Sylva? He isn't Ben's father, no matter how much he or Ben wish he were. He hasn't been Lisa's boyfriend for months. He's just a 32-year-old asshole who—

“Okay, enough of that,” he mumbles as he hits the accelerator. He rolls down the window and lets the hot air blast his face. He turns up the radio, relieved to hear Paul Revere and the Raiders. He sings along, unconcerned with his pitchy voice.

This has become his routine since he moved out of Lisa's: Saturdays, he goes to Betty's and orders a burger and slice of pie. Then he drives randomly for a few hours. When he gets home, he raids the liquor cabinet until he blacks out.

Today he takes a right turn onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. He normally avoids it—the 45 mph speed limit annoys him—but he's in a contemplative mood.

The dark mountains stretch out around him, reminding him of the forts of couch cushions he used to make as a child. If the sky had cartoon Starship Enterprises for clouds, he would think he was hiding under his sheets again.

Dean takes a sharp turn, then immediately swerves to avoid a man standing in the middle of his lane.

“Holy shit!” Dean yells as he slams on his brakes. His heart pounds in his ears. He looks over his shoulder to see the man staring, head tilted, at his car. Dean swears again, pulls off the road, and parks. He gets out.

“Hey! What were you thinking?” The man, who must be close to Dean's age from the look of it, does not reply, and Dean realizes he is wearing a suit, tie, and trenchcoat in the middle of a humid summer's day. As he walks closer, Dean can see the rivulets of sweat track down the man's unshaven face.

“Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?” Dean asks.

“Where am I?” the man rasps.

“You're on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Did your car break down?” Dean looks around for another vehicle and sees none.

The man's blue eyes scan the road ahead. “Where is the nearest town?”

“Sylva is ten miles that way.”

The man pivots and starts walking.

“Hey!” Dean says, “Wait, I'll give you a ride. I'm headed back that way anyway.”

The man thinks a moment, then nods. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Name is Dean, by the way. You are...?” Dean asks as he holds out his hand.

The man eyes it for a moment before stiffly giving his own. “Castiel.”

“Castiel? That's different. Religious or something?"

Castiel stares at him.

“Mind if I call you Cas?”

Cas continues to stare.

“Alrighty. You know, Cas, maybe you should take that coat off. You're sweating buckets.”

Cas wipes his brow and stares at the wetness as if in shock. He wavers where he stands. Dean grabs his arm.

“Steady there! You need some air-conditioning. Here, give me your jacket. I'll put it in the back. Get in the car.”

Cas obeys without a sound. He rests his head on the passenger-side window as Dean cranks the engine and directs the fans towards him.

“I think you may have some heat exhaustion there, Cas. You got family or a hotel I can take you to?”

“No. I need a television.”

“A TV? What for?”

“I must watch the news.”

“Sure thing, buddy, just tell me where your friends are and I'll make sure you get your TV.”

“I have no friends.”

“Co-workers?”

Cas shakes his head.

Dean sighs and thinks through his options. He puts the car in drive. “Alright, then. I know a place.”

Dean fills the awkward silence of the car ride with anecdotes about how he and his friend Jo tried to hogtie a goat one boring Sunday afternoon. He ignores the man's somber stares.

After what feels like hours, an old squat building with a sign saying “The Roadhouse” comes into view. Dean smiles at his home-away-from-home where the Harvelles live and work. It is a rundown shack of a bar just past the exit to I-40 West. Ever since Bill Harvelle died, his wife Ellen and daughter Jo have been seeing to the place.

“Come on,” Dean says to Cas. He climbs out of the Impala to jump up the steps and push open the bar doors.

“Ellen! Jo-Jo! Where are you? I need some service!”

“What are you yelling for, boy? Were you raised in a barn?”

Dean turns and slaps on his charming, con-man grin for Ellen Harvelle, the fifty-something woman standing behind the bar with her hands on her hips.

“You're a fine sight for sore eyes,” he says, and opens his arms for a hug.

Ellen doesn't smile. “What do you want and who's the guy?”

“This here's my buddy Cas. I was wondering if you'd get him some water and turn on the news?”

She narrows her eyes at Dean, then sees the state Cas is in. “Alright then. Any friend of Dean's a friend of mine,” Ellen says with a forced smile.

She sits the damp man down at the bar and changes the channel to the news before getting him a pitcher of iced water and a tall glass.

“Relax and cool off, honey,” Ellen says, then grabs Dean's arm and pulls him out of ear-shot. “You better explain this to me, Dean,” Ellen whispers, “And remember: I know when you're lying.”

“Look, I almost hit the guy.”

“What'd you do that for! You been drinking?”

“No! I meant with my car. He was standing in the middle of the road.”

“Why didn't you take him to the hospital, moron?”

“There's not a scratch on him! He's dehydrated, that's all. And I don't know what his story is. I think the sun addled his brains. He needs to get his wits back together.”

They both turn to watch Cas, who watches a report about last night's meteor shower.

“Hey Cas!” Ellen calls. “You want something to eat?”

Cas shakes his head, eyes still glued to the screen. “No, thank you. I do not eat,” he replies.

Ellen and Dean exchange a glance. “Sure he's not nutso?” Ellen whispers.

Dean shrugs. “Let me talk to him. You mind making him a sandwich?”

“What am I, your slave?”

“What if I said you make the best sandwich this side of the state?”

Ellen shakes her head goes into the kitchen. Dean takes a stool beside Cas and looks at the images of the meteors falling on Mount Fuji. Cas fiddles with his wallet on the bar.

“Weird, isn't it? That meteor shower,” Dean says. “They say it hit all over the world.”

“Yes. Very strange,” Cas replies, brow furrowed.

“Let me take a wild guess: you're not from around here.”

“Yes.”

“Where are you from?” Cas hesitates and glances at the wallet. “Pontiac, Illinois.”

“Illinois? That's a long ways away. What are you doing here?”

“That is what I am trying to understand.”

“I don't follow.”

Cas says nothing.

Dean sighs. “Okay, chatterbox. You wanna borrow my cellphone and call someone?”

Cas looks down.

“You want me to drop you off at the nearest motel for the night?”

Nothing.

“Look, dude. I've been in knee-deep shit before, too. I'm just trying to give you a hand. Where do you want to go from here?”

Cas calmly meets his eyes. “I have no idea.”

Ellen shoves a turkey and rye sandwich with chips in front of Cas. “Here you go. I'm putting this on Dean's tab.”

“Don't I get a complimentary beer?” Dean asks.

“Not in my place,” Ellen replies. “Keep watch on the counter. I gotta catch up on some bills.”

“I should get this for free if I'm doing work!” Dean calls after her.

Cas pokes the bread, then takes a tentative bite. He chomps into the rest of the sandwich, making loud enjoyment moans that Dean tries to ignore.

The newscaster starts reporting on a mysterious death in Missouri. According to witnesses, a man was bleeding from the eyes, nose and mouth when he spontaneously exploded. At the time of the report, police suspect he swallowed an unknown explosive in an attempted terrorist attack.

“It has begun,” Cas says.

“What?”

“What I feared.”

Dean waits for Cas to continue. He doesn't. “Okay, Crypt-keeper. I give you a ride, I buy you a sandwich, and I get you a boob tube. You owe me a story.”

“You will not believe me.” “Give me a try. I'm pretty open-minded.”

Cas looks down again. “I am...I'm afraid I can't tell you.”

“What? You involved in some government shit?”

“That is all I can say.”

“And as part of this government shit, you were left in the middle of the road? Without a cellphone?”

“...The budget is not what it was?”

Dean looks at Cas a moment. “You're so full of shit I don't know how you can stand up, but okay. You don't have to tell me the truth. Whatever. But you gotta tell me where you wanna go from here.”

Dean hears the door's handicap-accessible engage and turns his head. The door swings open and Dean sees Bobby Singer—a fifty-something, grey-haired grouch with a ballcap permanently affixed to his head—roll his wheelchair inside.

“What are you doing here?” Dean and Bobby ask at the same time.

Dean thumbs at Cas and says, “I'm helping this weirdo out. What about you? I thought you 'had things to do'.”

“I do. A man can't take a break once in a while? So who's the weirdo?”

“My name is Castiel,” Cas says as he tilts his head and stares at Bobby.

“Call him Cas,” Dean says. “Bobby, Cas. Cas, Bobby. I'm a mechanic at Bobby's garage.”

“And you live in my house, boy.”

“I pay rent!”

“Like you could find rent that cheap anywhere else. Anyway, it's a pleasure,” Bobby says.

Cas studies him again, then turns his attention back to the TV. Bobby gives Dean a look. Dean shrugs.

“Bobby!” Ellen says as she walks into the room. “I thought I heard your voice.”

Bobby's face softens and he smiles. “Hi Ellen.”

Dean clears his throat and mutters, “A break, huh?”

Bobby shoots him a warning glance. “I had some free time this afternoon. You still want me to look over that contract for you?”

“That'd be great! I'm finishing up an order at the moment. You mind hanging in here until I call it in?”

“Sure,” Bobby replies with another smile. Ellen smiles in turn before she disappears into the back.

“Not a word,” Bobby warns. Dean holds up his hands in surrender.

At the commercial, Cas examines everything except Dean or Bobby. As he studies the pool table in the corner he asks, “How did you lose the use of your legs, Bobby?”

“Cas!” Dean whispers.

“Oh, they're right as rain. I _choose_ to stay in this thing all day. Makes life interesting,” Bobby sneers. “Where'd you pick up this bozo again?”

“I meant no offense,” Cas says as he looks at Bobby.

“Well, offense taken.”

“I almost hit him on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Thought I owed him a ride and a drink.”

“You living out there or something?” Bobby asks.

“No. I woke up there.”

“Woke up?” Bobby asks.

Cas doesn't answer.

“He says he's involved in some kind of government shit, but that's about it,” Dean explains.

Bobby narrows his eyes and studies the strange man for a moment. “You got a home to go to?”

“Not anymore,” Cas replies as his eyes scan the room yet again.

“Be straight with me: you in trouble with the law?”

“No.”

“You on drugs?”

“No.”

“Well, you're a strange one, but I've taken a chance on worse. I live near here if you need a place to stay.”

“Bobby!” Dean interjects.

“Dean, I believe in second chances. You think you're the only lost boy I've helped in my life?”

Dean looks down at his drink.

“So how about it, Cas? You sleep on my couch tonight, and we'll figure out what to do with you in the morning. Just promise to keep the cripple jokes to a minimum, okay?”

“You are inviting me to your home?” Cas asks, wide-eyed.

Bobby scoffs. “He always this dense? Yes! It's on the table.”

Cas looks at the table beside Bobby and scrunches his forehead. “I do not see anything on the table, but I accept your offer. Thank you.”

“Great. Dean, you take Einstein home and show him around, okay? Make sure he doesn't stick his fingers in the electrical sockets. I'll be back later.”

“Sure thing, Bobby...Take your time.”

“Don't sass me, boy.”

Dean grins and taps Cas's shoulder. “Come on, Cas.”

As they approach the car, Cas stops. “Did Bobby insult me?”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean drives up a winding road to reach his and Bobby's home. The front yard of the dilapidated colonial features rusting cars. A mechanic's garage sits silently in the back.

“Welcome to the Ritz,” Dean says as he turns off the motor.

The living room has dark wood paneling that gives the impression of stepping into a cave. Two armchairs and a couch surround the TV. A charred fireplace sits in the corner.

“Well, this is where you'll sleep,” Dean says, pointing to the mauve couch. “I have some clothes you can borrow if you need them. You wanna beer?” Dean asks.

“I need to defecate. Where is your restroom?” Cas asks.

Dean snorts and points to the door at the end of the hall. “Crack a window, buddy.”

He smirks and goes to the kitchen for a beer. If nothing else, this guy is good for a laugh.

* * *

 

 

_**“Hello, I'm Diana Waters with ABC. Tonight, we report on two more explosive deaths, this time in West Virginia. Authorities say they are investigating the possibility of terrorist activity, but is there something they're not telling us?”** _

* * *

__

 

Dean dreams the same dream every night. A truck is hit by a RPG in front of him. He runs to see who survived. A soldier lies in the sand. Half of her face is burned beyond recognition. When he checks her pulse, her head moves to reveal the unburnt side, and he sees that it's his mother, as she looked on that night so many years ago. She looks directly at him—one clear blue eye, one bloodied ash—and she asks the same question, over and over:

_Why didn't you save me?_

Dean feels a hand on his shoulder and jolts. He almost lands a punch on Cas's jaw, but the silent man dodges it.

“What?” Dean gasps. He tries to catch his breath.

“Are you well, Dean? You were crying out,” Cas asks, eyes boring into his. “What is wrong?”

Dean tries to laugh. “Just a bad dream. Flashbacks, you know?” Dean no longer trusts his legs. He sits on the edge of the bed and wipes his eyes.

“Flashbacks? I have heard of those. You were in a war?”

“It was called an 'operation'. It just happened to last a few years.”

“I would call it war.”

“Yeah.”

Cas sits beside him. Dean coughs and shifts himself over a few inches.

“I, too, was in a war,” Cas states.

“You bullshitting me again, Cas?”

“No. I was never “bullshitting” you. It is dangerous to tell you the entire truth, but it is true that I was at war for a very long time.”

“Terrorists?”

“In a sense.”

“I guess that's all you're gonna say, right? Fine. So how'd it turn out?”

“We won.”

Dean nods and looks into the darkness. “Maybe we did, too. I don't know.”

“It came at a cost.”

“It always does. Embrace the suck, right?”

“What?”

“It's what we said in Iraq. It's bad, but you deal with it.”

“I see. Yes, I regret a great many things from that time. I lost many...friends. But I continue on.”

“Me too man...So I ran into a fellow soldier in the middle of nowhere? What are the odds?” He claps Cas on the shoulder. “Go back to bed. You can still get a few more hours before morning.”

“I don't sleep,” Cas replies as he leaves.

Dean hears Cas yawning in the hallway and shakes his head.

Dean doesn't go back to sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, the three men—two of them with deep bags under their eyes—eat their cereal and drink their coffee at the kitchen table.

“So you got no plans? Nobody to care if you live or die?” Bobby asks.

Cas shrugs. “No.”

“Well, you planning to stick around here a while?”

“I am not yet sure how to proceed.”

“I'd say stick around and get your barings. Get a job if you can. Economy's still kinda slow, but Dean and I know a lot of the people around here. We might be able to work out something.”

Cas attempts a smile. “Thank you.”

“Don't get sappy on me. I just want you out of this house. Dean, you working on the Milton car today?”

Dean swallows his mouthful and nods. “I'm gonna get the Bradley's car out of the way first.”

“Jo said she'd be late this morning. She asked you to not take all the fun jobs,” Bobby says.

“Oh, I will.”

“Cas, you can help me with some things today while Dean's working. I'll call around and find you an interview.”

Cas nods.

“Sounds good,” Dean says as he gets up from the table.

* * *

 

Dean is not a religious man, but the closest thing he feels to spiritual is when he's fixing a car. He focuses completely on his task, and for the few hours he spends each day in Bobby's garage, he's at peace.

He is so fixated on the pistons of the Bradley's Volvo that he almost jumps when Jo says good morning to him.

“Where have you been?”he asks.

The short blond woman tilts her head to the side. “Doctor's appointment, remember? Had to get my girly bits checked out.”

“Ugh. Too much info, Jo-jo.”

Jo laughs. “I just wanted to see the look on your face. By the way, who's the guy cleaning Bobby's gutters?”

“I'm guessing it's the homeless bum I'm trying to help out.”

“A bum? Really? He doesn't look the type.”

“Well, he is and he's weird, so stay away from him.”

“Weird how?”

“Hard to say. There's just something different about him.”

“Now I'm really curious.”

“Don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Like I'd ever say that.”

* * *

 

Dean spots Jo and Cas talking at lunch and shakes his head. He should have just told her to become friends with the guy so she'd stay away.

Dean pats Cas's shoulder as he passes the pair. “Come on, Cas. Bobby tells me you have an interview at the grocery store at two. We need to find you a decent shirt to wear.”

Cas says good-bye to Jo and follows Dean to his room.

“Here, try this on,” Dean says as he thrusts a blue oxford shirt at Cas. “And don't get it dirty. It's my Sunday shirt.”

“You wear a special shirt on Sundays?”

“What? No, it's my dress-shirt. You know, for special occasions.”

“Oh. Your colloquialisms are interesting.”

“Yeah, okay. I'm glad you appreciate it.”

“How do I look?”

Dean folds down the collar. “Like white trash, but it'll have to do. Come on. I'll give you a ride to town. I need to pick up some oil anyway.”

Dean advises Cas on interview etiquette during the ten minute ride to the store, though he doubts it'll do any good.

Cas is waiting outside when Dean returns.

“How'd it go?” Dean asks.

“I believe I got the job,” Cas responds, looking confused.

“Great! Where you working?”

“The deli.”

“Well, it's a start. How much you making?”

“Eight dollars an hour. It's part-time.”

“When do you start?”

“Tuesday, if the background check comes back quickly.”

“Will it?”

Cas shrugs. “As far as I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chicago Sun-Times, July 23, 2011_ **

 

**_PRESIDENT MAKES STATEMENT ABOUT VIOLENT DEATHS_ **

**_In a press conference yesterday, President Obama said this about the rise in bizarre fatalities:_ **   
**_“I feel for the families who have lost loved ones to this unknown killer, families from France, Russia, Bosnia, the Sudan, Australia, Brazil, and here in America. We are investigating every possibility. Whoever is responsible for this—whether it be terrorists or members of our own communities—we will find them and bring them to justice. We will stop this.”_ **   
**_She went on to answer questions from the reporters, explaining..._ **

 

* * *

 

 

Cas gives his first paycheck to Bobby in repayment for letting him stay there. He buys an old bicycle with his second so that Dean doesn't have to take him to and from work. This means Cas is riding in the dark but he gets a front and back light and seems to enjoy the trip, so Dean keeps his thoughts to himself.

Despite an odd addiction to anything on television, Cas proves to be a hard worker. His manager at work soon gives him around thirty hours a week, even though he just started.

For the next few weeks, the three men fall into a stable routine around the house; that is, except for a couple of notable situations.

One sunny Saturday, Dean grabs the old football out of the corner closet and tosses it in the air beside Cas, who is watching cartoons.

“Hey, Cas. You wanna toss the old pigskin around?” Dean asks.

Cas looks up, confused, and looks at the brown elliptical object. “Pigskin? Isn't that a football?”

Dean laughs. “Yeah. You've never called it that? Let me guess: they raise their boys on croquet up in Pontiac.”

“I don't know what croquet is, either.”

“Oh, man. You gotta get out more. Come on.”

Cas follows Dean out to the side yard, where there's space among the rusting vehicles.

“Okay. See how I'm holding this? Fingers like this on the laces. Here,” Dean says and he tosses the football to Cas. Cas fumbles but manages to keep hold of it. “Go to the other side of the yard and throw it to me.”

Cas stares at the ball before nodding and going long. He squints his eyes at Dean in concentration.

“Any day, now, Cas!” Dean shouts. Cas chucks the ball right at Dean, and Dean catches it easily. “Good aim! You're a natural. But make it a challenge!” Dean throws it back, making Cas have to run to catch it.

They play until they work up a sweat, and Dean yells at Cas to bring it in.

“Let's get some water, man,” Dean says. He slaps Cas on the butt.

Cas jumps and gapes at Dean. “Why did you do that?”

Dean laughs. “You never played sports in school? You're such a nerd! All that means is 'Good job. Now hurry up.'”

Cas face relaxes in understanding. “Oh, I see,” he replies. He wallops Dean's butt.

“Christ!” Dean shouts. “Not that hard, you son of a bitch!” And Dean slaps him back. Cas cries out, then tries to hit him again, but Dean evades him and rushes into the house.

Thus begins the ass-smacking war. The key is to find the victim off guard. While Dean is getting a cup of coffee, Cas sprints into the kitchen and spanks him before running off. While Cas takes out the trash, Dean ambushes him from behind the rusty VW and gets him back.

By the next day, the two grown men are constantly looking over their shoulders and trying to keep their backsides to the wall.

“I don't know what you boys are doing, but it's getting weird,” Bobby says when Dean and Cas slink down the stairs before rushing to the table for the delivery pizza.

By the end of the third day of this, Dean winces when he has to sit down, and he realizes that it's gone far enough.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says before Cas gets on his bike to go to work. He notices Cas grimacing at the bike seat.

“Yes, Dean?”

“I think we've had enough of the butt-slapping, don't you?”

Cas nods. “Yes. I agree.”

“So let's stop.”

“Gladly.”

“Great,” Dean says before slapping Cas on the back. Cas slaps him harder in turn before getting on his bike and riding off.

“Oh, it's on, you fucker,” he mumbles.

Dean watches the man disappear down the hill and realizes that he hasn't thought of Lisa or even Ben in over a week.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of weeks later and the game loses its allure, though not before both men are nursing colorful bruises.  
Dean and Cas are in the living room trying to find something interesting to watch on TV. Bobby has gone to Ellen and Jo's for dinner, and so the men pick at the remains of Chinese takeout and click through the channels. Nothing but reality TV shows and competitions. Even Cas is bored.

“So, Cas,” Dean says as they watch D-list celebrities shake their asses for the nation, “You got any hobbies? Other than TV and hitting people, I mean.”

Cas mutes the volume and picks up his chopsticks to poke at a piece of cabbage. “I enjoy watching the birds on the way to work. I also go to the library to read.”

“Oh. Yeah, I've heard some people like that. What do ya read?”

“Poetry mostly.”

Dean almost chokes on his lo mein. “What?”

“Poetry,” Cas repeats. “I read the most beautiful poem today about daffodils. Would you like me to read it to you?”

Dean gawks at him like the freak he is. “Dude, you are such a girl.”

“What do you mean?”

“What planet are you from, anyway? Nobody but girls and gays read poetry. It's stupid.”

The base of Cas's neck flushes.

“And how would you know? Have you read anything besides the jokes on cereal boxes?” Cas spits out as he glares at his takeout.

“Hey, man! I didn't mean anything by it. I just...I just don't know anyone who voluntarily reads that stuff. But hey, we all need our hobbies, right?”

Cas gets up. “I better go to bed. I have work in the morning.”

Dean also gets up. “Wait a minute. You're right. I've never tried reading poems on my own before. Heck, I think we only read two in school. I wanna hear one.”

Cas warily looks at him. “You don't mean it.”

“Yeah I do! I like learning new things as much as the next guy. And it's not like anything better is on TV anyway,” Dean says.

Cas's eyes soften. “Alright. I have one memorized. It's by W.B. Yeats. It's titled The Second Coming.”

“Great. Let's hear it,” Dean replies as he sits back down on the couch.

Cas remains standing and looks out the back window into the black night. He recites:

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre  
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;  
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,  
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;  
The best lack all conviction, while the worst  
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;  
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.  
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out  
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi  
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert  
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,  
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,  
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it  
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.  
The darkness drops again; but now I know  
That twenty centuries of stony sleep  
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,  
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,  
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”

Dean's mind is inundated with images of Iraq: the persistent sun, the sight of endless sand and rock, the smell of fresh blood on the hot sidewalk. He snaps himself out of it.

“That's pretty epic, man.”

Cas looks at Dean for the first time since he started reciting. The look turns into a stare, as usual. “Yes. It's my favorite...I find it is the closest thing I have found that describes my experience.”

Dean looks into the man's blue eyes and wonders what they've seen. Then he coughs and looks at his feet. “Uh, yeah,” Dean says as he wipes his face with his hand. “I guess poetry's not too lame.” He attempts a laugh, then clears his throat. “Well, I think it's getting pretty late. We both got work tomorrow. I have a new customer coming in bright and early.”

They part ways without meeting each other's eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_**New York Times, August 20, 2011** _

 

_**CDC AT A LOSS** _

_**The CDC issued this statement yesterday about the explosive deaths of two Mormons in Salt Lake City last Tuesday:** _   
_**“At this time, we have ruled out the more likely suspects of plague, Mad Cow, anthrax, automimmodeficiency disorders, all the known STDs, the ebola virus, and the flu. We also find no evidence of spontaneous human combustion. We are continuing our investigations and will immediately notify the public of any new developments.”** _

__

* * *

__

 The Roadhouse becomes rowdy on Saturday nights. Despite the noise and chaos, Dean has slowly but surely worked his charm and is confident that tonight he will be able to convince Candice—a college senior from Cullowhee—to sleep with him.  
He squeezes through the crowd at the bar and orders two more beers. He spots Cas looking down at a half full whiskey tumbler and makes his way over.

“Hey, buddy! Having fun?” Dean yells.

Cas grimaces. “Is this what fun is?”

“Come on, man, you have to get out there. Just relax and hit on a girl or two. There's a bunch of lonely coeds here tonight wanting to have a good time. And chicks dig older men.”

“Okay, I'll try,” Cas replies. He gulps down the rest of his drink. Dean pats him on the shoulder.

“Go get 'em, tiger.”

Dean and Candice make out for a few minutes. She agrees that they need more privacy. Dean searches out Cas to let him know he'll need to grab a ride when he sees the man talking intently with some dark-haired college girl.

“May I borrow this gentleman for a moment?” Dean asks the blue-eyed woman as he pulls Cas to the side. “Buddy, I'm getting lucky tonight. Can you find your own way home?”

Cas looks at Candice waiting by the door, then back at his own coed. “I'm going to go with Haley here.”

“You dog! See? How easy was that!”

“No, I mean she's...an old friend. We're leaving tonight. I mean permanently.”

Dean forces a smirk on his face. “You're not gonna give your two weeks notice? What are the guys at the store gonna think?”

“I didn't think of that...Please, give them my apologies.”

“Wow. You're serious?”

Cas nods.

“Sure, okay. Uh, I guess this is it then? Well, don't do anything I would do. You need some cash to get you started?”

“No. We'll stop by Bobby's to pick up my things. Thank you for all your help.” Cas puts out his hand.

Dean takes it and pulls the dork into a quick hug. “Hey, man, no problem. You take care of yourself.”

Cas smiles and nods, then disappears into the crowd.

Candice takes Dean back to her apartment in Cullowhee.

“Gosh, you can't get enough, can you?” she teases as Dean piledrives into her.


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later, Dean is ignoring the bing of another text from Candice as he tries to remove a stubborn radiator from an old Jeep. He almost has the sucker out when a hand taps him on the shoulder and he bangs his head on the hood.  


“Christ, Jo, don't scare me like that!” Dean says as he turns around. To his surprise, Cas stands before him. “Cas? What are you doing here?” Dean looks him over. Blood soaks through the collar of Cas's shirt. Cuts mar his face, neck, and hands. “Holy fuck. What happened?”  


Cas stares at the Jeep engine. “I crashed the car, Dean. I don't know if she's alive or dead. She wanted to possess me.”  


“What are you talking about? Are you on drugs?”  


Cas shakes his head. “No. I'm telling you the truth. I don't know where to go. I'm hungry, dehydrated, and wounded. I am afraid she is still alive and will find me. And I have lied to you, Dean. I've lied to you about who I am.”  


Dean puts his hands on Cas's shoulders. “Hey, hey! Look at me! We're gonna go inside and get you some water and clean you up. Then you're gonna explain in detail, okay?”  


Cas relaxes and sighs. “Thank you, Dean. ”

Cas sits on the couch and sips his water as Dean gets the first-aid kit to treat Cas's injuries. Bobby hears them, rolls into the living room, and demands to know what the hell is going on.  


“I don't know, Bobby,” Dean says as he tries to steady his hands. He dabs the cuts on Cas's face.  


“Here, give me that! You're both is some kind of shock!” Bobby says and snatches the rubbing alcohol away from Dean. He tilts Cas's head to the side and whistles at the caked blood. “Whoa. How'd you get so prettied up, boy?”  


“Haley was going to possess me. I grabbed the steering wheel and crashed the car to escape. I doubt she's dead. I should have killed her.”  


“You did what?” Bobby drops the supplies and wheels himself a few feet away. “I better call the police!”  


Cas shakes his head. “I don't have time for police. I know what I have to do now. I have to break the spell.”  


“Cas,” Dean says, “You're talking crazy. What's going on?”  


Cas takes a deep breath and looks directly at Dean. “I was an angel of the Lord.”  


“That's it. I'm calling the cops,” Bobby says as he takes out his cell.  


“Please listen to my story! Both of you deserve to understand the truth.”  


“Okay, Cas, okay. We'll listen,” Dean says as he motions for Bobby to hold off on the call. Bobby rolls his eyes and sets the phone in his lap.  


“I suppose I should start at the beginning. Our Father created us, the angels, eons ago, before the Earth existed. My brothers and I loved him completely. We were happy. Then He created you, humanity. He told us to put you before ourselves, for you were His most beloved creation. I and most of my brothers did so without complaint. But a faction led by the archangel Lucifer rebelled. And so God cast them out.”  


“What is this, Bible School?” Bobby mutters. Dean glances at him.  


“Angels guided human development for a few thousand years, but not too long ago, God told us that He must go. There was no explanation. With no direct orders, we stayed away from humanity.”  


“So why are you here now?” Dean asks. Bobby snorts in disbelief.  


“Two special sisters of the Pardee family started the apocalypse. Lucifer returned, and we were in direct battle with his legions here on Earth.”  


“When was this?” Bobby asks.  


“A few years ago. Perhaps you noticed the increase in natural phenomena around that time? The youngest sister sacrificed herself to stop Lucifer. The eldest now lives in Colorado with her husband and children. I thought of contacting her but could not bring myself to do it, not after all the pain she suffered.”  


“So how'd you end up here?” Dean asks.  


“The fighting in Heaven only worsened after Lucifer was defeated. A number of angels wanted to restart the acocalypse and create the paradise we were promised so long ago. I and others like me resisted. Metatron, the scribe of God, offered his help to our side. I never suspected that his plan for peace entailed casting us all out of Heaven. He completed a spell, and my grace was the last component. He put me in this body and banished me from Heaven along with the other angels you saw as a meteor shower.”  


“So wait: are there two of you in there now?”  


“No. According to the card in his wallet, this body originally belonged to a man named James Novak. Metatron somehow cast his soul out when he forced me in. He is much more powerful than I estimated. I have to find a way to break this spell. The explosions are angels trying to find proper hosts. They still have their grace, you see, and only a select few humans can contain such power. There are nowhere near enough vessels for the number of angels. This will not stop until we re-open Heaven, understand? Will you help me?”  


Dean and Bobby look at each other a moment.  


“Yes. We're going to get you the help you need,” Dean says.  


Cas relaxes his shoulders. “Thank you. This experience has been disturbing for me. I'm glad to find allies.”  


“Yeah, buddy. No problem. Hey, why don't you get some shut-eye? We can't do anything else tonight. May as well rest up and we'll talk about this tomorrow.”  


“Yes, you are right. I am exhausted and I doubt Haley knows I'm here. May I use your toilet?”  


“Sure.”  


Dean and Bobby watch him close the door before Bobby turns to Dean and whispers, “Are you crazy or just stupid? He's a looney!”  


“He's sick, Bobby! He's been through some shit, okay? I don't know if he tried to kill that girl or just imagined he did. He needs help. We can't put him back on the streets. Remember when I came back from the war? Where would I be now without your help?”  


Bobby sighs. “So what's your plan?”  


“You're going to call Jody and ask her to investigate a girl named Haley who passed through here Saturday. They probably already found the accident. I'm gonna take Cas to the hospital for a psych evaluation.”  


“And you think he'll just go along with you?”  


“I'm going to convince him to. And if I can't, I guess we'll have to get Jody's help on this one, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**_Washington Post, August 23, 2011_ **

 

**_PETE ROBINSON CRITICIZED FOR “IGNORANT SPECULATION”_ **

**_“The pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays, and the lesbians are the reason for these deaths. We are being punished by God for tolerating these sinners,” said Pete Robinson when asked about the current deadly situation._ **

**_He was criticized by the President and members of both political parties for his statement, which went on to..._ **

****

* * *

****

 Cas is missing from the couch when Dean stumbles in the next morning.

“Cas?” Dean calls. He looks out the front door and sees Cas sitting on the porch steps. “Cas! What you doing out here so early, man?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean sits next to him on the creaking, dew-damp wood. “Hey, man, you okay?”

Cas looks off into the distance. “Okay? No. I haven't been okay in some time. I'm tired, Dean.”

“You didn't sleep?”

“I mean...I've been in this war for many years, and I don't see it ending anytime soon. Angels used to fight evil in this universe. Now we only fight each other and hurt humans. I want peace. I want rest.”

“Well, you've got some problems, Cas, and I'm here to help if you'll accept it.”

Cas looks to the sky. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you need more help than I can give. I think we need to go to the ER and get someone to look you over. They'll be able to do more for you than we can.”

Cas looks in his eyes. “You think I'm insane.”

“No. Well, yes, but that doesn't make you a bad person. Hey, I've been there myself. Sometimes, the head just goes wonky, okay? You'll get better, man.”

Cas is silent.

Dean plays with a spare thread on his pajama pants. “Look, just think about it. I'm gonna go get some breakfast. Join me if you want.”

Dean is about to go back in the house when he hears someone say, “Hello, Castiel.”

Dean turns around and sees a disheveled and bloody Haley glaring at Cas from the walkway. Cas stands up and grabs something from his sleeve.

“Dean, stay out of this,” Cas says as he shoves Dean down and steps forward.

Haley pulls out a long, silver blade and lunges at Cas, managing to slice his upper arm.

Dean sees the glint of a knife in Cas's hand. Cas stabs Haley in the chest. A bright blue light bursts from her body. Dean steps back and shields his eyes as hot winds blasts around him.

“What the hell was that?” Dean yells when he can hear again. He uncovers his eyes to see Haley lying on the ground.

Cas inspects the black hole in her chest. “She was an angel. They've found me. I have to go.”

“They're real? That girl was possessed? You're an angel?”

“Yes, yes, and no. Last week I was an angel. Now I am as human as you, but the others want me dead for casting them out of heaven. To stay here would bring danger to your home.”

“Okay, man, okay. But come inside. We gotta come up with a plan, and you can't leave bleeding like that. Let me get Bobby and we'll figure out what to do.”

Cas hesitates, but lets Dean guide him inside and yell for Bobby. Dean grabs a blanket and rushes back out to cover Haley's corpse.

Cas stands frozen in the middle of the living room. Bobby sits in the doorway to the kitchen, shotgun pointed at the blue-eyed man's chest.

“Dean, call the cops. I think he's hurt someone.”

“I know, Bobby. I saw it. The body is outside.”

“What! And you're just standing there?”

“She was that Haley chick I told you about. She came up, attacked Cas, and exploded in light when he stabbed her. How do you explain that?” Dean says.

“What are you talking about?” Bobby asks.

“When angels die,” Cas explains, “Their grace bursts out of their vessels to return to heaven. To humans, this looks like an explosion of blue light.”

“Angels? And you're saying you saw this, Dean? You're both off your rockers.”

“Bobby, listen. Cas is telling the truth. Cas, show him the blade you stabbed her with.”

Cas takes out the bloodied blade and gives it to Bobby.

“Have you ever seen anything like that?” Dean asks.

“It's one of the few weapons capable of killing an angel,” Cas explains as he stares out the window.

Bobby hands back the blade and puts down the gun. “I've stumbled in buckets of crazy this morning, but okay. I got no better option than to go along. What are you going to do now? I can't hide a corpse on my property.”

“You won't need to. I'm leaving. Tell whatever is easiest to your police,” Cas says and turns toward the door. Dean blocks his way.

“Wait, I still need to treat that arm and get you some other clothes. And where are you going to go, anyway? Won't they just find you again?”

“I know warding spells that will keep them away for a time. Then I will research and do whatever it takes to reverse the spell. They will continue to create chaos on Earth if I do not stop them.”

“Bobby, any ideas?”

“Well, I don't know if he'll help you, but a guy I know teaches at UNC in Chapel Hill. They have the biggest library in the state. If there's any information about anything you need, that'd be the place to start.”

“Who's the guy?” Dean asks.

“Rufus Turner.”

“Rufus 'I-hope-he's-dead' Turner?”

“The same. You'll have to use some of that charm on him, Dean, but he'll come around.”

“Me? I'm not going!”

“How's angel-boy going to get there? There's no buses to Chapel Hill from here! And Cas almost got run over in the middle of nowhere! How is he ever going to survive a city?”

“But what about the garage?”

“Jo can handle it for a few days or so. And my legs may be useless, but I can still diagnose a car problem by sound alone. We'll make it.”

“And I guess if Ellen should show up to help...”

Bobby blushes. “Well, that wouldn't be a bad thing, would it?”

“Both of you have helped me enough. You don't need to risk your lives,” Cas says.

“Bobby's right, Cas. You need a guide, and I'm the best one ya got. That's the end of the discussion.”

“You got enough money?” Bobby asks.

Dean nods. “I got some savings. You sure Rufus will let us stay?”

“You'll have to bribe him, but he's a good guy. He'll do the right thing.”

“Okay. Cas, let's go clean that arm up and pack. It's time to get this road trip started.”


	7. Chapter 7

**_Hello, it is August 24, 2011, and I'm Audrey Thanatos reporting from Fox News. Trending on Google, Tumblr, and Twitter today are “zombies” and “zombie apocalypse.” Is there any validity to these explanations? To be fair and balanced, we ask the self-proclaimed “Zombie Expert” Martin Creaser and medical researcher Dr. Gaines to give us their opinions..._ **

****

* * *

 

****

They make a pit stop in Asheville for matching tattoos of demonic and angelic warding symbols.

“Demons? You mean they exist, too?” Dean asks in the Impala parked beneath the "Man's Ruin" shop sign.

Cas nods. “They may try to stop me to keep their advantage over Heaven.”

“That's some Cold War shit right there.”

They make up a story about being old army buds who want to commemorate their time in Iraq. The artist gives them a discount with a smile, and Dean knows he could get in her pants if he only had the time.

Dean hasn't been farther than Asheville in years. The countryside looks different from what he remembers. More developed, in many cases. More people.

There's not much to listen to on the radio. Dean puts on Metallica and lets the music carry him away for a while. Cas looks out the window, deep in thought. Dean finally gets bored and turns down the music.

“Hey, so Cas. I was wondering about something you said.”

Cas glances over at him. “Yes?”

“Uh, you mentioned God. He really disappear like that?”

“Yes. I suspect He stopped caring. He never revealed himself during the attempted apocalypse.”

“How do you know He's not dead?”

“The Pardee sisters managed to speak to Joshua, an angel who is close to Him. God is still alive.”

“So He's just the original deadbeat dad, I guess, huh? Sounds like my dad.”

“Your father stopped caring?”

“In a way. Don't get me wrong. After Mom died, he was pretty fucked up. He did the best he could, he really did. But when Sammy—that's my younger brother—went to school in California, he...gave up, I guess. The drink woulda killed him in a few months anyway.”

“That must've been difficult.”

“Yeah.”

“How did you mother die?”

“What?”

“You mentioned your mother's death.”

“Oh. She died in a house fire.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They lapse into silence. Dean finally pops out the Metallica and puts Lynard Skynard in its place.

“I like this,” Cas says as he bobs his head to the beat of "Sweet Home Alabama."

* * *

 

Dean parks outside the brick house and looks up at the light leaking out the windows. He grabs a brown paper bag from the backseat. “Okay. Just follow my lead.”

When he knocks on the front door, a voice yells out, “Who is it?”

Dean shouts back. “Mr. Turner? It's Dean Winchester. I'm a friend of Bobby Singer's.”

“Any friend of his is no friend of mine. Go away.”

“We need your help!”

“We all need help, boy! Go away!”

“I brought some Johnny Walker Blue Label as a token of appreciation, but I guess if you're not interested...” Dean turns around and gestures to Cas to go back to the car. They're about to get in with the front door opens. A tall black man in his late fifties stands there. An earring hangs from one ear.

“Well, get in here, then! I may as well hear what you boys want.”

 

“The whiskey is excellent, but I've never heard so much BS in my life.”

The three men sit around Mr. Turner's mahogany dining table. The house is cozy but disorganized. Books and papers are scattered everywhere, betraying the fact a professor with better things to do lives there.

“Look, I know it's hard to believe, but I've seen it with my own eyes. People don't gush light when they get stabbed!” Dean says.

“They do if you're on acid, child! You really expect me to believe you?” Mr. Turner says after a sip of the drink.

“I have proof,” Cas says. Mr. Turner looks at him. “My weapon.” Cas retrieves the cleaned blade and sets it on the table. “Please inspect it. It is a single piece. There are no flaws, no signs of forging. And it is pure silver.”

Mr. Turner picks it up. “It's certainly heavy enough to be silver.” He gives it back to Cas. “But that doesn't prove anything other than ingenuity. In any case, that only proves you can afford a nice piece. UNC is always looking for rich benefactors, you know.”

Dean sighs. “This is pointless, Cas. We should just go.”

“Wait,” Cas says. “I noticed the mezuzah on your door post, Mr. Turner. Are you Jewish?”

“Yes. I converted in my twenties.”

“Do you read and speak Hebrew?”

“Of course. I spent a sabbatical in Israel. Best year of my life.”

“I was stationed in that area for many centuries. Ask me anything—in Hebrew—and I will answer you.”

“Anything?”

Cas nods.

“How about we make this more difficult?”

Dean glances from one man to the other.

“I'll ask you a few questions in modern Hebrew, and you write the answers in Biblical Hebrew. If you can do that, you can stay the night.”

Cas nods. “Please, ask.”

What follows is a thirty minute interrogation in a language Dean had only heard once before in that Prince of Egypt flick.. After a while, he can make out a couple of words: "Elohim"—God and "Yisrael"—Israel. Everything else is incomprehensible.

Finally, Mr. Turner holds up his hand. “I don't know if you're a nutcase or a genius or both, but it doesn't matter. I'm a man of my word. You can stay the night.”

“Thank you, Mr. Turner,” Cas replies with a smile.

“Fuck the formality. You two may as well call me Rufus.”

 

* * *

 

 

They order pizza for dinner. Cas is in quiet ectasy. Dean and Rufus ignore him.

“So, you're John and Mary's kid? Didn't you have a brother?”

Dean swallows his mouthful. “Yeah. Sam. He's a lawyer now. Got married, had kids. He's out in California.”

Rufus nods. “And you?”

“I did two tours in Iraq. Came back and got my automechanic certification. I run Bobby's garage now.”

“I was working in a deli,” Cas pipes in cheerily. “Part-time. My first job on Earth.”

“That's...interesting,” Rufus says.

“So Bobby said you're a mathematics professor?” Dean asks quickly.

“Yes, though I dislike the term 'professor.' My job is to do research and then publish papers. I poke my head in the classroom a few times a year to justify the money UNC pays me. Can't complain, though. I enjoy it.”

Cas finishes his pizza. “I have another proposal for you.”

Rufus shrugs. “Go ahead and shoot.”

“I help you with your research, you let us stay here until I finish mine.”

“You're a mathematician, too?”

“In a sense.”

“Well, there's a problem I've been working on. I like to watch my show on Monday nights, but afterwards, we'll work on it. You show me what you can do, and we'll talk.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Dean unpacks his shirts in Rufus' green guest bedroom. It smells musty, unused. He opens the window to air it out.  
Cas is across the hall in Rufus' son's old bedroom. Dean leans on the doorframe and looks at the blue walls with Caltech memorabilia. Academic achievement trophies adorn the bookcases. Cas is sitting at the oak desk, scribbling on notebook paper.

“I take it the kid went to Caltech?” Dean asks.

Cas swivels around. “Yes. Rufus is proud of him. He is studying to be a physicist.”

“Neato,” Dean replies as he messes with a debate team trophy. He thinks of his decaying GED in Bobby's basement. “You ready for a break?”

“From what?”

“The math stuff.”

“Would you like to do something?”

“It's a nice day. We should head out to campus. Check out the women.”

“Aren't most of them over ten years younger than you?”

“What's your point?”

Cas shrugs. “It seems uncommon in your culture for men your age to be seeking women their age.”

“So I take it you're not interested.”

Cas returns to his scribbling. “No. I am not.”

“Well, suggest something then. I'm going stir-crazy here. I'm open to anything.”

Cas turns back around. “Rufus lent me his library card. I'd like to go to Davis Library.”

“Oh my God! You're worse than Sammy!”

 

* * *

 

 

Turns out Davis Library is in the middle of campus, which would've made Dean happy if they didn't immediately entomb themselves in the eight story brick building.

“Not exactly warm and friendly, is it?” Dean whispers as Cas walks to a computer to check the catalogue.

“I believe it's a place of study, not socializing.”

“Oh, don't get your tutu in a ruffle.”

Cas ignores him. Dean looks around. Just what he thought: not a sorostitute in sight. He begins to hum the intro to Stairway to Heaven as Cas writes down a few dozen numbers.

“Do you ever read books?” Cas asks.

Dean rubs his neck. “Yeah, I guess. I liked Lord of the Rings and comic books back in high school. Now I mostly read car manuals and the classifieds.” He shrugs. “Not much time for it.”

Cas grabs his arm. “We need to go to another floor.”

Dean shakes off the hand. “Sure thing.” Dean wonders why he agreed to all this. Oh, right: he was bored. So much has changed.

They get off the elevator and Cas makes a beeline for a random section. Dean leans on one of the desks lining the windows and stares outside.

Books are dropped onto the desk, and Dean jumps.

“Jesus, man! Don't do that.”

Cas gestures at the books. “These are for you.”

Dean looks down. “ _Berserk_?  _Fullmetal Alchemist_? What are these?”

“They're Japanese comic books. This library has an extensive selection of them, and these titles are the most popular.”

Dean picks one up and reads the back. “Huh. This sounds vaguely interesting...”

Cas smiles. “Good. I need to go to another floor. Meet me downstairs in a hour?”

Dean sits down and begins to read. “Yeah, sure man. Whatever. Just hurry up.”

 

* * *

 

 

Cas and Dean walk out of Davis Library a couple of hours later, both holding a small pile of books. Dean holds various manga titles (“If you tell anyone I'm reading geek material, I will end you,” he told Cas at the checkout desk). Cas carries large, imposing, brown tomes and a grey cardboard box (“It protects the old Enochian book within,” Cas explained to Dean. Dean nodded as if he understood).

They wait for the bus outside the planetarium. Dean mutters about how his car would've been faster. Cas asks where he would've parked it. Dean curses smart ass angels.

Dean is buried in _FMA_ #2 when he hears her.

“Is this the right bus to get to Target?”

Dean looks up to see a brunette in skinny jeans and a purple t-shirt with “Free Mustache Rides” on the front. She's cute, but not his type. Too goth.

Cas shrugs and replies, “I'm afraid I don't know.”

“Oh, are you new around here?” she asks as she nudges closer.

“Yes, my friend and I are here visiting a friend of ours,” Cas replies, nodding towards Dean.

“Howdy,” Dean says with a short wave before turning back to his book. He can't help continuing to listen to their conversation. They're right there, for Christ's sake.

“I should've known you were too cute to be students here. This place is crammed with freaky geeks and cocky jocks and little else.”

“You're a student?”

“I'm getting my masters in psychology. Hope to get my doctorate someday and charge clients $200 an hour to talk to me. Have to get through this first, though.”

“Your educational system is very interesting.”

She giggles. “Funny and cute. What's your name?”

“Cas.”

“Short for Casper?”

“...Yes.”

“My name's Meg. You want to get a drink with me sometime, Cas?”

“I have much work to do, but...sure. I think I could make time.”

“Here's my number. I have to teach Recitations until six o'clock most days, but I'm free afterwards.”

Their bus arrives. Dean slaps his book shut and tells Cas to come on.

“It was nice meeting you, Meg.”

“You, too, Cas.”

Cas and Dean grab onto the overhead rails as the bus pulls away. Cas watches Meg disappear behind the hill. Dean pokes him in the stomach with his elbow.

“Don't come on too strong, Prince Charming. Girls dig a guy who's detached.”

“Oh, okay,” Cas says as he looks at the paper with her phone number. “Wait, do you think she likes me?”


	8. Chapter 8

_**The Chapel Hill News, September 15, 2011** _   
_**Senator of Maine Waldo Stevens (D) had this to say about the explosive fatalities:** _   
_**“All we know at this point is that there seems to be a focus on devoutly religious individuals of many different faiths. We are beginning to believe that we are looking at some new kind of Holy War.”** _

__

* * *

__

“We've been at this stuff forever!” Dean says as he tries to read yet another meaningless treatise on angelic symbols. Cas ignores him. Dean huffs and begins to wad up paper into tiny balls and chuck it at his head.

After a few moments, Cas snaps, “Some of us need to concentrate, Dean!”

“And some of us would like to see the sun again, Cas!”

“Okay, you know what? Just go on home. I'm getting into primary historical documents anyway. You've helped enough.”

“Best words I've heard all day. Catch you later.”

Dean takes the bus and sees Rufus' Honda Civic in the driveway. He finds the old man inside, reading in his easy chair.

“Where's Cas?” Rufus asks as he removes his spectacles.

“Oh, he's at the library still. I couldn't take it anymore, so I left.”

“Ah.”

“I was thinking of cooking dinner tonight. You like spaghetti okay?”

“That would be great. I get tired of take-out.”

“Great. By the way, I heard a screeching in your engine when you left this morning. Mind if I drive it to the store to get a better listen?”

“Sure. I've been meaning to take it in. You're mighty helpful to have around, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “I see a need, I try to fill it. That's all.”

“If what Cas says is all true—and I'm still wrapping my head around that—then he is lucky to have you as a friend.”

“Oh, don't go soft on me now, Rufus.” Dean replies with exaggerated disgust as he grabs his keys.

It turns out the screeching is a worn V-belt, an easy fix, so Dean picks up a replacement on his way back from the grocery store. If Rufus has the right tools, Dean will install it in the morning. He now stands over the stove, stirring seared green peppers, garlic, and ground beef into store-bought marinara sauce.

“I haven't smelled anything this good since my wife left.”

Dean turns around a moment to see Rufus leaning on the archway to the dining room. “I'm sure she was a better cook than me. I just open cans,” Dean says.

“You haven't met my wife—I mean my ex-wife. I'm still getting used to calling her that.”

Dean prepares a salad. Cas likes crunchy foods for some reason. “Divorce just go through?” he asks.

“Yep.”

“Hey, it takes time, man. I broke up almost a year ago, and I still catch myself thinking she'll walk through the door anytime now.”

“She?”

Dean turns around when he doesn't continue. “Sorry, I missed that.”

Rufus takes out some plates from the cabinet nearby. “Uh, I mean my wife, she said I wasn't emotionally available or some such mess. I'm a man! What does she expect?”

Dean snickers. “She sounds like Lisa. Always asking me to open up, to tell her about the war and shit. I couldn't tell her that stuff.”

“Where'd you serve?”

“Two tours in Iraq. 41st division.”

“Oh, yes. John was a Marine, wasn't he?”

Dean looks back at the lettuce. “Yeah.”

“You join the Marines?”

“No...Wanted to do something different from Dad, you know?” Dean gets out the bacon bits. Bacon makes everything better.

“I get it,” Rufus replies. “My daddy wanted me to join the Navy. I joined the Air Force just to piss him off.”

They are chuckling when the front door opens.

“Hey, guys. What smells so good?” Cas asks, his arms loaded with books and papers.

“Dinner, that's what,” Dean replies with a grin. “Stop being a nerd for a while and grab a plate.”

 

* * *

 

 

After dinner, Dean and Cas watch Rufus' DVD of _Rocky Balboa_ while Rufus works upstairs in his study.

“Oh, man! That was epic!” Dean says as the credits roll.

Cas's brow furrows. “It was okay. It was violent.”

“Oh, don't be a girl, Cas. It's just a movie,” Dean says and turns off the screen. “Learn anything interesting after I left?”

“I'm making good progress.”

“Great. How much longer, do you think?”

“It's difficult to say. It could be hours. It could be days, even weeks.”

“Huh. Well, you seem settled here now. Rufus likes you. You two nerds can mind-meld like Vulcans, so I'm gonna head back home after tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I'm gonna do some work on Rufus' car tomorrow. It's the least I can do to pay him back.”

“No, why are you leaving at all?”

Dean eyes Cas and chuckles. “I got a life back home, buddy. Bobby needs me at the garage. Jo's good but she's only one person. Besides, haven't I done my heavenly duty?”

“I would like your help.”

Dean stands up and stretches, then tosses the remote behind him onto the couch. “With what? You're smarter than fifty of me put together, Cas. What could you possibly need me for?”

Cas also stands up. “I enjoy your companionship.”

“Hey, we'll still keep in touch on the phone. You think I'm gonna drop you like that?”

Cas looks at his feet. Dean laughs and grabs a shoulder to shake him.

“Chin up, soldier.”

Cas looks up and smiles sadly. Dean would never admit it, but he's gonna miss the blue-eyed balooka. He's gonna miss the awkwardness and the stares and the geek-outs and the grunted hellos over those first cups of coffee, when they're both grouchy from nightmare-ridden sleep.

“Dean?” Cas says as he searches Dean's eyes.

“What?” Dean replies. He scratches the back of his head and drops his eyes to Cas's mouth. There are perpendicular creases at the corners when Cas half-smiles like that. He's never noticed before.

“Are you okay?”

“Never better,” Dean says with a yawn. He feels dread pooling in his gut. It reminds him of when his dad told him the dog had to be put down.

“Here,” he continues as he picks the remote back up and offers it to Cas. “You can keep watching. I gotta get an early start in the morning.”

Cas takes the remote. Dean is pulled behind it like a steamliner behind a tugboat. His lips come to rest against Cas's. It's like kissing silk and sandpaper at the same time.

Dean tries to pull back, mind racing for excuses. Cas grabs his face and forces him to stay. Summoning his resolve, Dean finally shoves Cas away.

“Forget that happened,” Dean says as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Dean...” Cas begins.

Dean doesn't hear the rest. He storms to his room and locks the door.

“What have I done?” Dean asks out loud. He grabs his head, bends over and dry heaves. “What the fuck was that?”

He remembers calling Mikey Bukowski a fag in middle school. The kid sucked at sports and had a lisp. He couldn't man up, and Dean made sure he knew it. But Dean is a man's man. Always has been. Anyone suggesting anything less gets it in the nose. Just ask Jeffrey Stevens from that prom night so long ago. He is a jock, a stud, a stallion. Not a gay.

Or is that a lie? Who the fuck is he? His drunk of a father called him soft. Told him he was too girly to make it in the Marines—that was why he'd not made the cut. Maybe everyone can see what a fake he is. Has he only been fooling himself all these years? Has he been the punchline of everyone's joke?

Dean thinks about the gun in the Impala's trunk.

He slaps himself across the face. “Get a grip, you pussy!”

It was a mistake, that's all. It meant nothing. He's being melodramatic over nothing.

There's a soft knock on the door. The doorknob jiggles. “Dean? Are you alright?”

Dean takes a deep breath and laughs. “Oh, yeah, Cas. I think that salad didn't sit well with me. I need to sleep it off.”

“...Will you unlock the door?”

“Naw, man. It smells like a goddamn sewer in here. You'd pass out.”

Silence. Then a quiet, “I'll see you in the morning, Dean,” and the sounds of fading footsteps.

Dean collapses to the floor and buries his face in his hands.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Dean pretends nothing happened. He finds the ruse difficult when Cas stares at him across the breakfast table.

“Hey, man, take a picture. It'll last longer,” Dean finally sneers.

Cas glares down at his bowl.

Rufus looks from Cas to Dean. “You boys alright? Anything I should know about?”

Cas says nothing.

“I told Cas I'll be leaving tomorrow, after I work on your car some,” Dean says. He adds in a soft voice, “I think I hurt his wittle feelings.”

Cas slams the chair back and clanks his bowl in the sink. “I have an appointment to get to.”

Rufus glances once more from Cas to Dean, then looks at his watch. “I'll be damned. Is it that late? I'll join you at the bus-stop, Cas. And Dean? I'm trusting you with my gal. No scratches.”

“I'm a professional, remember?” Dean replies as the two other men leave the room.

He swirls the milk of his cereal. The Cheerios collide like bumber cars.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean is topping off the wiper fluid when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He jerks around, splashing the blue liquid on the gravel. “Jesus Christ, Rufus! Why do people like to sneak up on me like that?”

Rufus shrugs. “I was sure you heard me.”

Dean turns back to his work. “Well, I didn't...Anyway, your car's done, man.” Dean grabs his towel and wipes some of the grease from his hands. “She should purr like a kitten now.”

“Thank you,” Rufus says.

“No problem. It's the least I could do for letting us stay here.”

“So you're really leaving then?”

Dean shrugs and scoots a pile of gravel with his foot. “I gotta get back to my job. Life, you know?”

Rufus nods. “Well, you deserve a going away drink. Time for some of that Johnny Walker, if you're interested?”

“Hell yeah!” Dean replies with a grin. “Just gotta get this shit off my hands and change clothes.”

A few minutes later, they sit in Rufus' living room, sipping whiskey, Rufus in his easy chair, Dean sprawled on the couch. The sun begins to set, but neither makes a move to turn on the lights. The darkness is more companionable.

“Oh, Cas said he'll be late today,” Rufus says after a sip. “He said he had a date with some girl named Meg.”

Dean stares down at his glass, trying to see the remaining amber liquid. “Meg? We met her yesterday at the bus stop. Goth slut from the looks of it. Just his type.” Dean takes a mouthful.

Silence.

“Did Bobby ever tell you why we stopped speaking?” Rufus says.

“Nope, he sure didn't. He just said he wished you were dead.”

“Oh, the feeling's mutual. Well, it's been long enough. Someone else ought to know. You see, there was once this girl named Karen.”

  
“Bobby's wife?”

“She wasn't always Bobby's. Back before 'Nam, she, Bobby, your parents, and I were in high school together. We were all friends. It was strange for them to accept me. I was one of the few black kids in the school—desegregation laws took a while to take hold down here. People weren't too keen to have me around. But John and Bobby befriended me. I suspect it was part of a bet or a dare or something equally stupid, but they never admitted to that. Karen was Bobby's next door neighbor.”

“Were they childhood sweethearts?”

“Not really, no. They hated each other at the time. It wasn't until college that they started dating. Funny how that works. Anyway, long story short, I had a thing for Karen. And I'm pretty sure she had a thing for me. But we never went past idle flirtations. You want to know why?”

Dean stares at his drink before downing the rest of it.

“I was too scared. I was afraid what would happen to me if I were seen with a white girl. I was afraid of what would happen to her. So I enlisted, spent five years in the Air Force, and I didn't see her again until her and Bobby's wedding.”

They stop a moment to listen to a distant siren wail.

“Now, I'm not saying she was the love of my life. I'm not saying I would've been a better husband than Bobby. I'm not saying I regret my ex-wife and son. I've had a good life. What I am saying is that I regret I was too afraid to follow my heart, that I let my fears of other people prevent me from being with someone I felt strongly for.

  
"So, anyway, long story short, when she and Bobby got in that car accident and she was killed, I said some things I shouldn't have, only because I realized what a coward I'd been. Bobby said some things back, and I lost two friends that day.”

The only light comes from the streetlamp fifty yards away. Dean sets down his tumbler. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“I remember you as a boy, Dean. Always trying to be like your dad. John was a good man, but he had his flaws. I think he forgot to teach you that a real man doesn't run away from what he's afraid of.”

Dean pushes up off the couch and turns on the overhead light. “Well, thank you Dr. Phil for that life lesson. And thanks for the drink. I better go to bed if I want an early start in the morning.”

Rufus sits silently in the chair as Dean leaves.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean wakes at the sound of the front door closing and looks at his watch. Midnight. Well, Cas had a good date, didn't he?

He turns over and buries his head in the pillow. He's almost asleep again when he feels the bed dip. He startles awake.

“What? What's going on?” He turns on his bedside lamp to behold Cas at the foot of the bed, his back turned and head bowed.

“Hello, Dean. I need to talk to you.”

“Uh, it's a bit late, dude. How about tomorrow?”

“I thought you were leaving in the morning.”

“Oh, yeah. No reason to stick around, right? Besides, you got a girl now. I'm sure she'll be your sidekick from here on out.” Dean collapses back onto his pillow.

“Who? Meg? I canceled our date.”

“What?” Dean mumbles into his pillow.

“I've been at the library. I tried to work on the spell, but I couldn't...So I read other things instead.”

“Other things?”

“Books about relationships. Most of them agreed that we need to talk this out.”

“Good God, Cas!” Dean cries as he bolts out of bed. “Don't be such a pussy and don't read self-help books! For the love of Christ! Forget the morning. I'm leaving now.” Dean begins to gather his belongings.

“I enjoyed what happened, Dean.”

Dean keeps moving and refuses to look at him.

“I don't want to ruin our friendship, but all I want to do is kiss you. Why do I have such a compulsion to kiss you?”

Dean dumps some clothes into his dufflebag. “Sorry, pal. I ain't a fag.”

“...What?”

“I'm not gay, okay! What happened was an accident. I lost my head for a minute. Don't take it too seriously.”

Cas stands up and squints. “Did you enjoy it, too?”

“I didn't say that, man. Go sleep it off.”

“No. I have to know. Look at me, Dean. Tell me to my face that last night meant nothing to you.”

Dean freezes and looks at Cas standing only a few feet from him. He swallows. “Last night meant nothing to me.”

Cas closes the distance between them. Dean grabs the door handle, but only manages to open the door a couple of inches before Cas slams it shut. Dean finds himself face to face with the frowning ex-angel. He quietly prays for Rufus to hear the commotion and come upstairs.

“So you feel nothing right now? No desire at all for me as I stand here?”

Dean stares at the clock on the dresser behind Cas, watching the second hand tick. “None.”

“Then you won't mind if I hug you goodbye?”

Dean chortles and shrugs. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

Cas embraces him, tucking his head against Dean's neck. Dean shivers at the contact and before long hugs Cas in return. Dean hears a sob.

“Dude, it's okay.” Dean soothes as he rubs Cas's convulsing back. “Being human is tough, man. It's confusing for all of us.”

Cas pulls out of the hug. Dean sees tear tracks down his face and brushes one away with his thumb and clasps his shoulder. “You'll be fine, Cas. I'm gonna miss you, too.”

Before Dean can react, Cas swoops in and pecks him on the lips.

Dean exhales loudly. A sharp sting of panic goes up his spine. “Cas, no. This doesn't make sense. I'm not a homo.”

“I'm not either,” Cas replies, then kisses Dean again.

Dean shoves him away. “You do that again, you're dead!”

Cas tries to do it again. Dean takes a swing at him. Cas ducks it. Dean kicks Cas's feet out from under him and slams the man to the floor. Cas winces in pain.

“You moron! You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?” he yells.

He tries to punch Cas again, but Cas grabs his hands and they begin to grapple.

“I hate you! You've ruined my life! I was fine before I met you!”

Dean pushes Cas's hands to the floor, then slams their mouths together. He fucks Cas's mouth with his tongue before he finally regains his senses and throws himself off the man, backing himself into a corner. Cas sits up, panting. They stare silently at each other.

Without breaking eye contact, Cas crawls over to Dean. Every muscle in Dean body urges him to run, but he is frozen.

“It's okay,” Cas whispers as he climbs between Dean's legs and takes Dean's face in his hands. “It's my first time, too.”

The two grown, unshaven men grope like teenagers on the cold hardwood floor. Dean works his hands under Cas's shirt and feels the muscles and bones writhing under the skin. He palms the nipples, expecting to play with soft, smooth mounds and instead finding curly chest hair and flat plains. His hands shake. He notices Cas is shaking too.

Cas breaks their kiss. He attempts to unbuckle his pants.

“Yeah, you gotta be careful of jeans, man. They're cock-killers,” Dean murmurs as he helps Cas lower the offending article.

Dean looks over Cas's head and fondles him through his boxers. Cas's mouth opens and his head jerks back.

“Oh!” he gasps.

  
Dean smiles. He kisses the exposed throat as he continues to explore through the thin fabric.

Cas suddenly breaks away and pulls down Dean's plaid pajama pants, pulling his briefs along with them.

“Whoa!” Dean says as he attempts to pull his pants back up. He stops when he sees Cas studying his exposed junk. He can feel a flush race across his neck. He coughs. “Uh, like what you see?”

Cas tilts his head. “I didn't realize penises could look so different. Yours is longer than mine.”

Dean smirks. “Well, thank you.”

“It's not as thick, though,” Cas continues.

Dean frowns. “Uh-huh.”

“Here, look,” Cas says as he pulls his boxers down.

Dean stares at the shorter—okay, and chubbier—cock surrounded by a wide patch of black pubic hair and low-hanging balls.

“See? Amazingly diverse, aren't they? Can I touch yours?”

Dean swallows and wonders where all the world's reason went. “Yeah, sure.”

Cas traces the contours of Dean's cock with gentle respect. Dean can't take the tickling touches for long and finally brushes the hand away.

“Here, let me show you,” he says, and grabs Cas's cock. He begins to gently stroke the shaft.

Cas arches his back and cries out. Dean kisses his heaving chest.

“...What's happening?,” Cas groans as Dean smears precome from the head. “Oh! Right there! I...I feel...so...”

“It's okay, baby. Just relax.”

Dean quickens his pace as Cas rolls his hips and gulps for air, his eyes wide in fear.

“Is this...Dean!”

“It's okay,” Dean says as he runs a soothing hand across Cas's stomach.

Cas clenches his eyes shut as he spasms. Dean watches the spurts of milky white erupt.

As the last shudders course through him, Cas opens his eyes. “What was that?” He swallows.

Dean laughs and wipes his hand on his pants. “I'm going to take a wild guess and say you came.”

“What?”

“You had an orgasm. It's when your body feels really good.”

Cas sits up. “Oh! I want you to feel it, too.”

Dean inhales deeply as Cas mimics Dean and begins to stroke. “It won't take long, I think,” Dean says.

Dean is right. He kisses Cas's neck as he comes, inhaling the man's sweaty scent like a bloodhound.

They collapse beside each other.

Cas brings his hand up to his nose. “Smells a bit like bleach.”

“Yeah.” Dean's eyelids grow heavy.

“...Tastes bitter. A bit salty.”

“Perv.”

Cas shifts. “This floor is uncomfortable.”

“Yeah.”

“Should we get on the bed?”

“In a minute,” Dean replies as he turns to nuzzle Cas's rough cheek.


	10. Chapter 10

Half-asleep and snuggled under the covers, Dean lazily rubs his legs along something firm and warm. He squints in the early morning sunlight and finds a pair of blue eyes staring back at him. He smiles. Cas smiles in return.

“Hey,” Dean mumbles.

“Hello,” Cas replies.

They kiss. Dean pulls back and laughs.

“Sorry. Forgot about the morning breath thing.”

“I don't mind,” Cas says as he pecks Dean again.

Dean wipes his hand across his face as if to clear the last vestiges of sleep. “Uh, about last night...Let's just keep it between us.”

Cas raises himself up on his elbow. “What do you mean? Is this about what you said last night? About not being gay?”

“I'm not. I've slept with a _lot_ of women. One guy doesn't make me gay.”

“Who cares, Dean? It's just a word. You can be whoever you want to be.”

“Thanks, Disney, but it's not that simple. People judge.”

“So? Let them.”

“Naw, man. They treat you different. They think you're less of a man.”

“So gay men aren't men? I thought being men was the point.”

“No, I mean they're not masculine...I don't know. It's complicated.”

“Oh, I see. Well, if it's any consolation, I've fulfilled many expectations of human masculinity. I've killed and I've tortured without blinking an eye. I've suffered the frailities of this human body without complaint. I've not noticed anyone treating me like a woman. But I also like to do this,” Cas says, and he leans in to kiss Dean.

After an unknowable amount of time, Dean pulls away and says, “Hey, I'm starving. I'm gonna cook us breakfast.”  
Cas nods. Dean throws on pants and a shirt and tells Cas to hurry up. He slaps the ex-angel's butt on the way out of the room. Cas laughs.

As Dean descends the stairs, he hears a loud crash. Dean rushes down the last steps and looks out the front door. Nothing.

“Rufus?”

“Not quite, sweetie.”

Dean turns around to see Meg clutching a bloody chef's knife.

“Meg? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Where's the angel, Romeo?”

“What are you talking about?”

Meg's eyes turn solid black. “Don't play dumb with me. You don't want to end up like Rufus, do you?”

“What did you do?”

“Meg?” Cas says behind Dean.

“Cas, stay back!”

“Clarence! Why'd you break our date? You know how hard it is to locate you nowadays? Look at what I had to do to find you!” She holds the blade up. Blood drips down the handle. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

Dean grabs the poker from the fireplace and rushes the demon. Before he knows it, he's thrown against a wall, the breath knocked out of him.

“Dean!”

Dean struggles to stay conscious.

“Don't make this difficult, Clarence. I'm the one with all the power here, remember?”

“Alright! Alright. Just don't hurt him.”

“Cas, don't!” Dean begs as he struggles to get up.

“It'll be okay, Dean.”

“Awww, you two are so cute. Don't worry, Cas, our boy's heart will go on.”

Dean looks up just in time to see Cas stab Meg. She gasps and glows yellow.

“But yours won't,” Cas says as he gently guides the body to the floor. He helps Dean up.

“She did something to Rufus.”

They run and find Rufus on the back porch, clutching his stomach.

“It's about time you got here,” he gasps.

“I'll call 911,” Dean says, and he shakily pulls out his phone. He can't seem to punch the numbers in.

Cas pries the phone from his fingers. “Here, let me.”

Cas talks to the operator while Dean puts a towel under Rufus' head and applies pressure to the wound.

“Hey, man. It's gonna be okay. You survived Vietnam, you can handle this.”

“Sure, sure...” Rufus' voice gets weaker. “You know what? As long as Cas lives to reopen Heaven, I don't mind dying.”

“Don't talk that way. You're gonna be fine.”

“Remember what I said, Dean. Okay? I don't give advice that good very often.”

Cas kneels on the other side of Rufus. “They want me to stay on the line to help them find the house.”

“You okay, Cas?” Rufus whispers.

“Yes, friend,” Cas replies as he grasps Rufus' shoulder. His blue eyes are wet.

“Good. You get this shit back together, okay? I don't want any more people dying.”

“I promise.”

Rufus closes his eyes and murmurs:  


“ _Sh'ma Yisrael_  
 _Adonai Eloheinu_  
 _Adonai Ecḥad_.”

He goes still. Cas feels for a pulse as Dean shouts Rufus's name.

Cas puts a hand to Dean's shoulder. “He's lost consciousness. Continue to put pressure on the wound.”

Dean focuses completely on his task, so much so that when the paramedics arrive, they have to ask him to step back.

Rufus is still alive, but barely. They get him on a gurney and take him to the hospital. They ask Dean to go and get his concussion checked out, but Dean won't leave without Cas.

A policeman questions them about the circumstances. They tell as much of the truth as they can: Meg was obsessed with Cas. She broke into their house to find him, attacking Rufus and Dean before Cas managed to stab her with the poker (which Cas had the foresight to poke into Meg's fatal wound).

The coroner arrives and begins to bag up Meg's body. Cas looks on so sadly that Dean squeezes his shoulder. “You did what you had to do, man,” he whispers.


	11. Chapter 11

**_LA Times, October 1, 2011_ **

  
**_Deaths continue to mount as the USA and UN scramble to find a cause. Government officials ask you to report any and all suspicious activity._ **   
**_If you are religious, they also advise that you stop praying for the time being._ **

 

* * *

 

 

Rufus' son, Malcolm, flys in from Caltech. His ex-wife Chaundra drives down from Virginia. Even Bobby and Ellen make the trip to be there.

Rufus is pronounced dead at 8:03am a week later.

 

* * *

 

The next day, after the funeral, Dean and Cas return to their two bed motel room. Dean collapses on the bed closest to the door. Cas sits on the edge of the other one.

“This is all my fault. I should never have returned...No, I should never have accepted your help in the first place,” Cas says.

Dean stares at the ceiling fan slowly rotating above.

“I have stayed here too long,” Cas continues, almost as if talking to himself, “I am risking more lives every hour. And...and yesterday I found a way to break the spell.”

Dean sits up and turns to Cas. Cas looks at the floor.

“It's complicated, but not impossible. It will take some time to prepare once I have located my grace. That in itself may be easier than I thought. There is a newspaper report about a mysterious light off the coast, around Carolina Beach.”

Dean stares at his hands and clears his throat. “It sounds like a trap.”

“Yes, I think so as well. Why else would Metatron put my grace within reach? He could just as easily hidden it in the arctic circle or in a volcano. But I can't wait any longer.”

Dean rubs his forehead. “So what does the spell do, exactly?”

“I regain my grace.”

“Meaning?”

“I'm not sure. If it can't contain it, my vessel will explode like the others. Or, if my vessel can contain it, without James Novak's soul, it will die anyway when I leave and return to Heaven.”

“Wait, you're going back up there with those monsters?”

“They're not monsters, Dean. They're my brothers and they're lost and confused. They need guidance.”

“You're hiding something from me, aren't you?”

“Yes...Dean, when I retrieve my grace...No. When I become an angel again...”

“Spit it out.”

“Angels don't have feelings, Dean. We only know obedience to authority and devotion to order. I'll remember everything, but I won't feel...anything for you anymore. I'll have no reason to see you again.”

“I see.” Dean puts his head in his hands. Cas reaches out and puts a hand on his back. “Don't touch me,” Dean says. He pushes himself off the bed and begins to pack his bag.

“What're you doing, Dean?”

Dean ignores him.

“Hey!” Cas says as he turns Dean around. Dean palms him hard to the shoulder.

“I said don't touch me, man!”

Cas backs off and watches him zip up the duffle. “So this is it, then?”

“There's no reason to stick around. You already know what you gotta do. I better get back to my life.” Dean puts the strap over his shoulder. “Don't worry: I'll forget this ever happened.” Dean pulls out his wallet and holds out two hundred dollars. “Here. This'll get you to Carolina Beach.”

Cas shakes his head.

Dean throws the cash on the bedside table. “Whatever.” He opens the door to leave.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Despite his best efforts not to, Dean turns around and looks at Cas one last time before he walks away.


	12. Chapter 12

The Impala whizzes down I-40, going ten miles over the speed limit. Dean thinks about what Jo's been up to since he left. He thinks about Malcolm and Chaundra picking up the pieces back in Chapel Hill (“I'm glad he wasn't alone. He was lucky you were there,” Malcolm said. Dean didn't tell him how wrong he was). He puts in Black Sabbath and cranks the volume. He aches for a drink, but wants to be safely ensconced in his room first.

Someone starts honking at him. Dean checks his mirrors and sees Bobby's van barreling down on him.

“What the fuck?”

Dean can make out Ellen behind the wheel. Bobby leans over from the back and points for Dean to pull over.

“Crazy old coot.”

The van pulls up beside him as his cell rings. Dean sighs and answers it.

“What the hell are you doing, boy?”

“What's it look like, Bobby? I'm going home.”

“What about Cas?”

“He doesn't need me anymore.”

“This stinks like day-old fish, Dean. Pull over.”

“Naw, I'm making good time. I'll talk to you at the house.”

Dean closes the phone and tosses it onto the passenger seat.

Ellen honks the horn again. Dean rolls his eyes and checks his rear-view mirror. A pack of cars is coming up behind them. Dean sighs. Bobby and Ellen are too stubborn to give up, and he doesn't want a crash. Dean nods and points at the next exit sign.  
They pull over to the side of a country road. Dean watches Ellen wheel Bobby out of the van before he gets out of his own vehicle.

“Okay, guys. What is it now?”

“Don't take that tone with me,” Ellen replies. “You know better than that.”

“What do you mean Cas no longer needs you?” Bobby asks.

“Ellen, can we have some privacy?”

“Oh, I already know all about it, Dean. Angels, right?”

Dean looks at Bobby. “You told her? Way to keep a secret, man!

“Oh simmer down. Cas told her.”

“You talked to Cas? What'd y'all talk about?”

“That isn't the issue here. The issue is you running off for no good reason,” Bobby continues.

“I'm not running! Cas...Cas found a way to break the goddamn spell, okay?”

“And you're just going to leave him all by himself after that woman tried to kill him?”

Dean doesn't say anything.

“No, there's something else going on. What is it?” Ellen asks.

“Oh, yeah, let's just sing kumbaya and share our feelings. You bring the tissues?”

“Stop being an idjit and spit it out!” Bobby demands.

Dean leans against the Impala and looks at the ground. “Cas is going to become an angel again. That's how the spell is broken.”

“And...?” Bobby prods.

“And that means he's gonna explode like the others have, or leave his body behind to go back to Heaven. In other words, the Cas we know is going to die. He's never coming back! I just...I can't watch that again. I can't take it.”

Dean listens to the wind shake the autumn leaves off the trees nearby.

“Is this about Rufus?” Ellen asks.

“It's about everything. It's about the death that follows me everywhere. I'm hanging on by a thread here, guys. I'm telling you, I won't do it.”

“You sound like you're blaming yourself, there, Dean,” Ellen says.

“Yeah, well, I do seem to be the common denominator, don't I?”

“Dean, shut up,” Bobby says. “Nobody's death had anything to do with you, and you know it. What you got here is a shitty situation, and you have two choices: You can keep running, and hate yourself for the rest of your life for leaving your best friend when he needed you most. And believe me, you will keep yourself up at night thinking about that. Or you can go back and be with him when he has to shuffle off this mortal coil. He's gonna die either way, and you're gonna feel bad either way. So which is it?”

Dean looks back at the road and wipes his face.

“I don't even know where to find him.”

“Well, good thing for you, I made him the reservations in Wilmington for his suicidal mission. You'll only be an hour behind him.”

Dean sighs and shuts his eyes, wishing the world would disappear.

Ellen briefly hugs him and whispers, “He's more than a friend, isn't he?”

Dean says nothing. He kicks a pebble and watches it bounce onto the road.


	13. Chapter 13

“You can do this, Dean,” he says to himself. He wipes the sweat off his upper lip. He knocks on room 104 of the local Motel 6.  
No answer.

“Cas, I know you're in there. Just let me see you, okay?”

The door opens a crack, the chain still attached.

“What do you want?” Cas asks. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen.

“Hey, man. I, uh, I wanted to apologize. I ran out on you, and I shouldn't've.”

“Thank you for your apology.” Cas tries to close the door but Dean wedges his foot in before he can.

“Can I come in? I'm totally turning into a girl by asking this, but I need to talk to you, okay?”

Cas stares at him for a moment. “Move your foot.”

Dean sighs and obeys, letting the door close in his face. A moment later, he almost jumps when he hears the chain being removed.

Cas holds open the door. “Come in and make it fast. I have work to do.”

As Cas bolts the door behind him, Dean takes in all the papers, books and symbols that litter the room. “You've been busy,” he says as he picks up a manuscript.

Cas takes it back from him. “Yes. I have to save the planet, remember?”

“Yeah. About that...”

“What?”

“I want to be there with you, man. You don't need to do this alone.”

“I'm fine on my own. Is that all you wanted to say?”

“You're making this really difficult, Cas.”

“You're making me really angry, Dean. I do not need your pity and I do not need your help. I am an angel of the Lord. I am a warrior of God. I forgot that for a time, but now I am going home.”

“Okay. You know what? Fine! But you're gonna listen to me first! Consider it the cost of that $200.”

Cas scowls.

“Good? Good. I'm glad you're allowing me your audience, Angel of the Lord. May I call you Castiel?”

“I don't have to listen to this. Get out of my room.” Cas pivots to walk away.

Dean spins him back around and kisses him. Cas shoves him away.

“You have no right to do that.”

“Why not? You liked it before.”

“Times have changed.”

“I made a mistake, Cas.”

“So did I, Dean.”

Dean rubs his forehead. “So that's how it is?”

Cas turns his back on him and starts to organize his papers.

Dean wonders if he could break this moment like glass, if he could reach out and touch it and shatter it into a million pieces and never have to put it back together again.

“Fine, Cas. Fine. I'm gonna leave. But I'm gonna tell you a few things first, because...Who cares anymore?" 

Dean collapses on the bed and clasps his hands between his knees.  He keeps his eyes focused on the puce and green carpeting.

“I've lost so many people, Cas. I told you my mom died in a fire. What I didn't tell you is that she started it. You wanna know what the last thing she said to me was? “Angels watch over you, Dean.” Maybe she was fucking right.

"Later that night, I heard something in Sammy's nursery and went to investigate. There she was, putting a lit match to the curtains. Now I understand that it was probably the postpartum thing, but at the time, I was just scared. I screamed. My dad ran in and handed Sammy to me. I was four years old, holding this fragile, six month old baby. He told me to protect my brother and run as fast as I could. I got outside just in time to see the top floor be engulfed in flames.

"I guess my dad tried to save Mom; I don't know. We never talked about it. All I know is he ran out of that house without her. When Dad became a drunk, I basically raised Sammy on my own, and Sammy cut out at the first opportunity. Good for him, but I was left behind again. My dad died of boozing soon after I joined the army. Thought I finally got a family when my buddies started getting picked off one by one. More of them took their own lives when they got home. And then Rufus, that old man foolish enough to help us out, killed while trying to protect us.

"And guess what? I'm not handling any of it well! I'm fucked up! More fucked up than you can imagine! I just wish someone, anyone, would tell me what to do with all this shit, 'cause I'm at a loss here.

"You know, I used to dream of drinking myself to death like Dad. And every weekend I would drive as fast as I could down dirt roads, praying that I'd finally have the guts to drive off the mountainside.

"Then I met you, and suddenly, I thought: 'Maybe there's a reason to hang around. Maybe I can finally be of use to someone else.' And I freaked when you told me you're gonna die. Okay? I'm sorry! I couldn't face it, 'cause this world is going nut-so and you're the only thing that's holding me down. It's pathetic. It really is. You see now what a weak son of a bitch I really am? So when you say you're gonna just up and leave forever...”

Tears fall down Dean's face. Cas sits beside him and takes him in his arms.

“I would do anything to never leave you again, Dean. You must know that.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and clutches Cas to him.


	14. Chapter 14

They move slowly, taking their time removing each other's clothes. Their fingers trail each others faces and bodies to etch them into memory. Cas sucks on Dean's neck and reaches down to feel the hardness aching for him. Dean exhales Cas's name.  


“I want to try something,” Cas whispers. He lowers himself and licks Dean from root to tip. Dean shivers and grabs Cas's hair.  


“Was that alright?” Cas asks. His breath causes Dean's cock to twitch.  


Dean huffs and runs his finger through the brown strands. “Hell, yeah.”  


Cas takes Dean into his mouth and sucks, managing to avoid nicking the sensitive skin with his teeth.  


“Oh! Where...” Dean swallows. “Where did you learn to give a blowjob?”  


Cas fondles his balls and answers, “From a book.”  


“Wow. Books are...awesome.”  


Dean nears the precipice and warns Cas. Instead of pulling off like he expected, Cas sucks harder and to his surprise, begins to rub a thumb across the wrinkles of his asshole. Dean tries to hold back, not wanting it to end, but finally comes hard, his back arching off the bed.  
Cas kisses his chest and face as Dean returns to himself. He wipes Dean's sweaty brow.  


“Did you like that?” Cas asks.  


Dean huffs and nods.  


“Did you like when I touched your anus?”  


Dean takes in a big breath and exhales before answering. “No one's ever touched me there, but...yeah. I have to admit, it was...hot.”  


Dean kisses Cas, exploring his mouth with his tongue, tasting something salty that must be his own come, and reaches down to tug Cas's cock.  


Cas breaks the kiss and whispers, “If we had more time, would you let me lick you there until you were wet and open? Would you let me insert my penis? Fuck you? It sounded enjoyable in the books.”  


Tears threaten to spill from Dean's eyes again. “Yeah. Hell, why not?”  


Cas kisses Dean and thrusts against his thigh.  


“Wait, I wanna do it,” Dean says.  


They switch places. Dean grabs the base of Cas's cock, then gently sways it. He thinks back to the Atari joystick he used to own and laughs. “I bet I could drive you around the house like this.”  


Cas smiles and puts his hands behind his head. “Do you mind if I watch you?” he asks.  


Dean shakes his head. He lowers himself and rubs the cock against his cheek, inhaling Cas's scent. Cas's breath hitches and he trembles. Dean looks up into Cas's eyes and licks the sensitive spot under the head. Cas begins to rub his hands through Dean's short hair.  


“Please,” Cas whispers.  


Dean tentatively takes the head in his mouth, praying that he won't accidentally scratch it with his teeth. It's softer than he expected, firm and yielding at the same time. The taste is better than he thought it'd be.  


He sucks for only a minute or two before Cas calls out his name, and Dean knows he has to pull off if he wants to avoid a mouthful of jizz.  


But then he thinks of tomorrow, of the inevitable, and he drinks Cas until the man can't give anymore.


	15. Chapter 15

Bobby wires them the money to rent a small motor boat at the Carolina Beach State Park (“You owe me big time, boys. And Cas? You take care of this riffraff, you hear?” Bobby said on the phone). Dean drives the boat out of the sound and into the tossing sea. They search for hours and are just about to give up for the day when Cas spots something a few miles east.

Dean drives up on a faint blue light pulsing deep in the waters.

“How the hell did you see that?” he asks.

“I didn't. I felt it,” Cas replies.

“This is the spot then. I'll drop anchor.”

Cas begins to recite the spell to retrieve the grace. Dean reaches over the side.

“I've got it!” he cries as he pulls a small glowing vial onboard.

“Excellent,” an unknown voice says.

They spin around to see a frumpy, short, middle-aged man in a grey sweater, his hands calmly behind his back.

“Metatron,” Cas says.

“That's Metatron?” Dean asks. “ _That's_ the guy who took you out?”

“He took me by surprise!”

“So, Cas,” Metatron says in placid tones, “Do you have a good story for me yet?” Metatron glances at Dean. “I lost track of you both months ago.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asks.

“Oh, right. You don't know me, Dean. You see, I'm the scribe of God. My job is to write down the stories of His creations. Castiel is one of many interesting characters in the canon. Every character needs a motivation, and Castiel's was finding his grace. So what story do you have to tell me?”

“I'm breaking the spell, Metatron,” Cas says.

“I know you're trying to. Why you want those monsters back in Heaven, I'll never understand.”

“They're destroying Earth!” Dean says.

“Better Earth than Heaven, Dean. If you had more perspective, you'd see that.”

Cas begins to recite the spell.

“You always were a rebel, Cas. But you forget,” Metatron says as he suddenly appears behind Cas and puts a knife to his throat. Cas eyes grow wide. “You're only human.”

Blood gushes onto the white plastic of the deck. Dean drops to his knees and puts his hands over Cas's throat in an attempt to staunch the blood. “Cas!” he shouts. Cas eyes are filled with pain and terror and he gasps helplessly.

“I'm sorry, Dean. Take comfort in the fact you might see him in Heaven,” Metatron says.

Dean stands up, then spins around and stabs Metatron in the stomach with Cas's angel blade. Metatron grabs his abdomen and gapes in shock.

“Better idea: I'll see you in hell.”

Metatron bursts in light. Ashy angel wings outline his still body on the deck. Dean slams back down on his knees and reapplies pressure to Cas's neck. Cas gurgles and twitches.

“No! No! This isn't gonna happen!”

One hand still applying pressure, Dean takes out his copy of the spell—the copy Cas made him rewrite a thousand times and say a thousand more times in order to get it right.

Dean recites the words as he sees Cas go limp. “Come on, come on. This is gonna work,” he says, as he opens the bottle and tips the grace into Cas's mouth. A drop slips out of the corner.

“Work, dammit! Cas!” Dean shouts as he shakes him.

Nothing.

Dean feels dizzy. He strokes Cas's hair. “I'm so sorry, Cas. I failed.”

He reaches down and closes Cas's eyes.

Then he breaks. His sobs are muffled by Cas's bloodied shirt.

He feels the body begin to grow cool. He lifts his head up and smooths down Cas's hair again, letting his hand trail down the face.

He cups Cas's cold cheek and leans down for one final kiss goodbye.

As soon as their lips touch, a bright white light bursts all around him and Dean is thrown to the other side of the boat. Even with his eyes closed, his arms crossed over his face, it burns.

The light leaves as suddenly as it appeared, and Dean opens his eyes to see Cas standing before him, head tilted to the side as if studying something profoundly interesting.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“What the hell just happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you were dead!”

“I was? Strange. I suppose I missed some aspect of the spell. Did you do something?”

Dean scrambles to his feet and almost hugs the angel before he remembers what Cas said.

“You don't feel anything for me, do you?”

“No. I am sorry. Tell me what you did to break the spell.”

Dean shrugs. “I don't know, man.”

Castiel's brow furrows. “You are in pain. Would you like me to change the memory of our time together?”

Dean swallows and is tempted for a moment. He could forget this ever happened. He could have Cas change Bobby, Ellen, and Jo's memories as well. He could go back to normal.

He shakes his head. “Naw, man. I'll keep it as is. Embrace the suck, you know?”

“Then I will leave.”

“Wait! What about the angels? Are they all going to go back?”

Castiel looks upwards. “They will return. There will be war, but in repayment for your kindness, I will watch over you and your family and make sure you come to no harm. I cannot protect the world, but I will protect you, Dean Winchester.”

Castiel disappears, taking Metatron's body with him. Dean stands alone on the blood-stained deck in the middle of the ocean.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Star-News, October 18, 2011**_   
  
_**A man's body was found on Kure Beach early this morning. Police have identified him as James “Jimmy” Novak, a radio ad salesman from Pontiac, Illinois. He went missing from his home last July. Why and how he traveled so far from home is still under investigation. Mr. Novak is survived by his wife and daughter.** _


	16. Epilogue

That December, Dean invites Sam, his wife Amelia and their two children to spend Christmas with him, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. Sam accepts, which Dean takes as a sign that it's not too late to be in his brother's life.  


It is Christmas Eve. Bobby and Ellen keep kissing under the mistletoe, causing Jo to make faces and gag like a ten year old. Jo, for her part, has hit it off with Amelia, and Dean can see the glint of motherhood in her eyes when she looks at the children. The locals guys will have to watch out for her from now on. Dean stands apart, smiling at the warmth and laughter before him, but unable to join in.  


“Hey,” Sam says as he hands Dean a beer, “We should go look at the stars. It's supposed to be a great view tonight.”  


They put on their jackets and step out on the porch. They sip their drinks and remark on how mild it is for Christmas. Feels more like fall than winter.  


“Thanks again for inviting us here. I've been wanting to visit you guys for the longest time, but I wasn't sure I was welcome,” Sam says.  


“What makes you think that?” Dean asks. “You're family for Christ's sake.”  


“We just...we don't have a lot in common, you know? I mean, we both had the shitty childhood, but after Dad died—I don't know. It's like you cut me off. You became this wall.”  


Dean cringes and sips his drink. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I thought I had to stay strong for you. For everyone.”  


Sam nods. “Yeah, I figured that out, but by then I was in law school and engaged to Amelia and all that, so I...I just kept away.”  


“You were busy. I get that.”  


“Yeah, but we're family. I should've helped you out.”  


“I take it Bobby told you about Iraq?”  


“A little. I'm sorry you went through that by yourself.”  


“Hey, no worries. Besides, I'm doing better now.”  


“Really?”  


“Well, when it comes to that.”  


“So things aren't all well and good?...Oh, I'm sorry. I remember: 'No chick moments.' I know you don't like discussing this shit. Amelia's got me going to counseling. It's become a habit.”  


Dean laughs. “Naw, man. It's alright. We can chick talk as much as you wanna, so long as no one's around. As long as my stud reputation is intact, we can watch Hallmark movies.”  


“Seriously?”  


“Naw. Hallmark movies suck. But the other stuff is serious.”  


“Wow. You've changed a lot.”  


“It's been a weird year.”  


“What happened?”  


“Well...I fell for someone.”  


“That's great man!” Sam says as he slaps Dean on the shoulder. “Who's the lucky girl?”  


“...I fell for a man.”  


“Oh...okay. That's cool. Who's the lucky guy?”  


Dean laughs. “You took that better than I expected.”  


“Come on man. You think that matters? Love is love. Why don't you invite the guy over? Bobby will get over it.”  


“I would, but...he's dead, Sammy. Two months ago.”  


“Oh, man, I'm so sorry. What happened?”  


“It's a long story...I miss him, you know? I keep thinking he'll appear at any moment...”  


“Hey, anytime you wanna talk...” Sam replies.  


“Not now. It's Christmas. Let's enjoy the holiday.”  


“Sure, man, sure...but I'm here for you, okay?” Sam gives Dean a hug.  


“You know, you've always been a hugger,” Dean says as he claps Sammy's back. “You get it from Mom.”  


Sam steps back. “Really? You never told me that.”  


“Yeah. I remember her hugging me all the time.”  


Sam smiles. “Hey, let's go inside and cow tip Jo. We haven't done that since we were teenagers.”  


Dean grins. “Great idea. She's had it coming all year...Just give me a moment, okay?”  


Sam squeezes his shoulder, says “Sure,” and goes back inside.  


Dean turns and looks up at the stars. He lifts his beer in salute, takes a swig, and goes back inside to be with his family.


End file.
